He had from the first busied himself about the preparations for his voyage with all the ardour of youth; that is, with all the energy of inexperience, and all the vigour of simplicity. As everything seemed to depend upon his obtaining a suitable vessel, he trusted to no third person; had visited Cowes several times; advertised in every paper; and had already met with more than one yacht which at least deserved consideration. The duchess was quite frightened at his progress. ‘I am afraid he has found one,’ she said to Lord Eskdale; ‘he will be off directly.’ Lord Eskdale shook his head. ‘There are always things of this sort in the market. He will inquire before he purchases, and he will find that he has got hold of a slow coach.’ ‘A slow coach!’ said the duchess, looking inquiringly. ‘What is that?’ ‘A tub that sails like a collier, and which, instead of taking him to Jerusalem, will hardly take him to Newcastle.’ Lord Eskdale was right. Notwithstanding all his ardour, all his inquiries, visits to Cowes and the Surrey Canal, advertisements and answers to advertisements, time flew on, and Tancred was still without a yacht. In this unsettled state, Tancred found himself one evening at Deloraine House. It was not a ball, it was only a dance, brilliant and select; but, all the same, it seemed to Tancred that the rooms could not be much more crowded. The name of the Marquess of Montacute, as it was sent along by the servants, attracted attention. Tancred had scarcely entered the world, his appearance had made a sensation, everybody talked of him, many had not yet seen him. ‘Oh! that is Lord Montacute,’ said a great lady, looking through her glass; ‘very distinguished!’ ‘I tell you what,’ whispered Mr. Ormsby to Lord Valentine, ‘you young men had better look sharp; Lord Montacute will cut you all out!’ ‘Oh! he is going to Jerusalem,’ said Lord Valentine. ‘Jerusalem!’ said Mr. Ormsby, shrugging his shoulders. ‘What can he find to do at Jerusalem?’ ‘What, indeed,’ said Lord Milford. ‘My brother was there in ‘39; he got leave after the bombardment of Acre, and he says there is absolutely no sport of any kind.’ ‘There used to be partridges in the time of Jeremiah,’ said Mr. Ormsby; ‘at least they told us so at the Chapel Royal last Sunday, where, by-the-bye, I saw Lord Montacute for the first time; and a deuced good-looking fellow he is,’ he added, musingly. ‘Well, there is not a bird in the whole country now,’ said Lord Milford. ‘Montacute does not care for sport,’ said Lord Valentine. ‘What does he care for?’ asked Lord Milford. ‘Because, if he wants any horses, I can let him have some.’ ‘He wants to buy a yacht,’ said Lord Valentine; ‘and that reminds me that I heard to-day Exmouth wanted to get rid of “The Flower of Yarrow,” and I think it would suit my cousin. I’ll tell him of it.’ And he followed Tancred.